


Missing You

by operacricket



Series: Misadventures and Metamours [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Jaskier and Yennefer's relationship status is "in cahoots with", M/M, Multi, OT3, Poly V, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operacricket/pseuds/operacricket
Summary: Slice of life, domestic fluff of a poly household.Jaskier and Yennefer figure out what life is like when Geralt's away.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Misadventures and Metamours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618633
Comments: 36
Kudos: 626





	Missing You

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many feelings about this ship. I love them as a triad, I love them as a V. This is the first in a series of one shots/short arcs about the three of them sharing a life, in which Jaskier and Yennefer are [metamours](https://medium.com/@PolyamorySchool/free-chapter-metamours-2ddb7ad6a8e0) who care a lot about each other without actually dating.

The first day without Geralt around was… weird. 

The three of them had been living in the little two bedroom for a month, and, after establishing guidelines for appropriate hours for singing and appropriate labeling for spell components in the kitchen, there had been relatively few hiccups. 

Loathe though he was to admit it, Jaskier liked Yennefer. She was mean and funny and oh so very hot. Their relationship was nothing like either of theirs with Geralt, and he had a feeling she would never have tolerated him if it hadn’t been for their mutual adoration of one stoic Witcher, but Geralt clearly loved her, and Jaskier found that to be sufficient. 

He and she moved around each other easily enough the morning after Geralt left, the routine slightly subdued for the absence of a third, no extra cup of coffee, no kiss goodbye. 

Yennefer left for work with a half-hearted, “See you,” and Jaskier moped on the couch, picking out melodies on the guitar.

He sent a few texts to Geralt but didn’t get much in the way of a response. He was busy on his job, driving or hunting or whatever. On a good day, he answered every five to ten texts, but that ratio sharply decreased when he was working.

He probably shouldn’t distract him anyway.

Jaskier posted a few snapchats to his story and then, in an effort to beat the unbearable silence, grabbed his wallet and his keys and went to the store. 

Yennefer felt a certain lethargy in returning home that evening. Since moving in with Geralt, she’d left the office promptly at five nearly every day, and she’d been out the door, purse under her arm and keys in her hand before remembering that she was returning home to a house with one piece missing. 

Her steps dragged on the way up the stairs to the apartment, and she was promising herself a glass of wine and a hot bath when she opened the door and the smell of warm food made her mouth water. 

Dropping her purse on the side table, she followed her nose and the blaring music into the little kitchen to find a disaster zone. 

Jaskier was singing along to the bluetooth speaker as he stirred something on the stove. Two loaves of bread sat on the counter. Food and dirty plates littered all the open spaces, and she stood, stunned and suddenly starving, in the doorway. Jaskier turned from the stove and dropped the spoon he'd been stirring with when he jumped.

"Yennefer! I didn’t hear you come in.”

She nodded to the speaker. How he expected to hear anything…

He grabbed his phone and lowered the volume to a hum. 

“I, uh, made pasta. I was going to text and ask what you like, but I realized I didn’t have your number.”

She softened a little from her gloom. It was a sweet thought, and it made the house seem much less cold and empty. 

“I like all kinds of pasta,” she soothed. Looking around the room, she noted all of the dishes the three of them had moved in with and a few more besides. “Did you need to use every pot?” 

“Well, I didn’t know what you liked on yours,” Jaskier answered, like this was obvious. “There’s an alfredo, a marinara with and without meat, a pesto…”

She stared at him before asking, “ _Why?_ ”

His breath went out in a huff. “I hate it when Geralt leaves me behind. I know he has to sometimes, too dangerous, blah, blah, but it makes me--" he shook his hands in a deeply uncomfortable way. "I couldn’t sit still. I needed to do something. So. Pasta.”

“I’m not a fan of his being gone, either,” she offered like a consolation. Admitting it tasted like dirt--she was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need to be coddled by her strong, independent Witcher. 

His smile was worth the painful admission, though, and for once, she saw what Geralt must see in him. 

“Go get changed or showered or whatever it is you do when you get home from work. I’ll…” he looked back at the chaos of the room. “Straighten up a bit and we can eat.”

They didn’t have a dining table, not the sort of household that gathered for family dinners, so Jaskier set everything out on the coffee table between the couch and the chairs. There truly was an unbelievable number of dishes to put on the pasta.

She settled on the other end of the couch, looking over at him as he watched her expectantly. He’d set up the table as close to a dining setting as was possible on the low surface, even found cloth napkins somewhere. 

Before she could serve herself she felt the need to clarify, “Jaskier, I’m not interested in--”

He looked confused and then terrified. 

“Oh! God, no, that’s not what this is,” he said. “I’m not trying to--this isn’t a date.” He gathered his words, “Listen, you are a very beautiful woman, as far out of my league as Geralt is, but I don’t want to date you. That would end so badly, and then Geralt would be sad, and I just--”

She nodded and put him out of his misery. “Just family dinner, then.”

He sighed and relaxed. “Yes. Just family dinner.”

“As long as we’re on the same page.”

“Same page, paragraph and line,” he agreed. 

She nodded again and turned her attention back to the food. Spooning the pasta onto a plate, she noticed the inconsistencies in shape and size. “Did you make this?”

“Yes? I told you, I made pasta.”

“Most people mean they heated water and poured in a box of noodles when they say that.”

“I was restless. I needed something to do with my hands.”

She noticed as they ate that his hands were never still. Even when he managed to shut up long enough for her to talk, he was gesturing in agreement or drumming his fingers on his plate.

He seemed to delight in her dry humor, and gave as good as he got in response to jokes at his expense. He was clever and quick with his words and, she had to admit, very funny. 

“He punched me in the stomach, the big oaf,” Jaskier laughed as he recounted the way he and Geralt had met. “Trying to get me to leave him alone before I got hurt.”

She understood the compulsion. Jaskier was like a sunbeam. Or a dandelion. Bright and cheery and easily stepped on or broken.

“Well, you did get hurt,” she pointed out. 

“And you should be grateful I did!” he exclaimed. “Or he wouldn’t have dragged me to you and you’d never have known the joy of trying to decipher _hmms_ into declarations of love.”

“I’m sure we could have met another way.”

“Nope,” he said with a pop to the P. “I take full credit for making that happen.”

She rolled her eyes and flicked a stray olive at him. 

Even though she scolded him the entire time for being a disaster of a human being who couldn’t clean up after himself, she helped him put away the food and scrub down the kitchen, at the end accepting her reward of freshly chilled tiramisu. Jaskier broke out a bottle of wine and turned the TV on, an awful reality show coming up, almost immediately launching into heckling. 

After the first time he composed a limerick on the spot for someone’s terrible choices, Yenn joined in until they were both laughing and drinking and bitching about their own lives. 

It wasn’t terrible.

It certainly didn’t feel as awful as laying in an empty bed and worrying. 

She may not have ever chosen the man curled next to her on the couch, but she felt the warmth that Geralt must feel from him, and understood the compulsion, the one she’d first seen when he first brought the singer to her with blood in his throat, to burn the world to the ground on his behalf. 

Geralt ached when he swung himself off Roach and tugged the sweaty helmet from his head. The motorcycle parking was blessedly close to the stairwell, so he didn’t have far to drag himself to get back to the apartment. 

He needed a long bath, a stiff drink, and about twelve hours sleep, hopefully with at least one lover by his side. 

The house smelled like garlic and flour and kitchen soap when he stepped in, and there was a dull rumble of sound between the music playing in the kitchen and the TV droning in the living room. 

Had Jaskier stayed up waiting for him? The damage he could do with that nervous energy... 

He braced himself for whatever mess the musician had made of the house in his absence and followed the hall to the living room. He wasn’t expecting the sight he saw when he stepped in. An empty bottle and two wine glasses sat on the coffee table. Yennefer was laying, cheek on the back cushion, hair spilling over the back of the couch, and when he moved to turn off whatever shitty TV was playing, he saw that Jaskier was curled with his head in her lap, snoring softly.

He felt an unnameable warmth spread in his heart, and leaned over them to grab the remote.

“You’re home,” Yennefer greeted, sounding composed, as if she didn’t have lines on her cheek from the cushion seam. 

“Mm,” Geralt agreed, leaning down to kiss her. 

“There’s fresh pasta in the fridge if you’re hungry. After you shower,” she added, wrinkling her nose at him. 

He snorted and kissed her forehead before heading towards the bedroom to change. 

“You’re not hurt are you?” she called quietly after him. “I would hate to have to wake the lark so he can get properly angry about it.”

“I’m not hurt,” he grunted back.

When he returned, Yenn was still awake, gently carding her fingers through Jaskier’s soft, dark hair. 

“He wrecked the kitchen,” she said mildly. “You should at least eat some of it before you pass out.”

He just grunted, but went and got himself a bowl before returning to their side. Yenn had shifted enough in his absence that he could squeeze in behind her, wrapping one arm around her to pull her back against his chest. 

“I hope you’re not planning to leave him behind for any longer than this,” she said. “He’s clearly not properly housetrained.” 

Geralt’s mouth was too full of Jaskier’s food to say anything to that. He didn’t like leaving either of them. 

“I like him,” she said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “He has a good heart.”

Geralt smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “I’m glad you two can get along.”

“I didn’t say that. Now, if you’re finished with that, use your muscles to carry him into the bedroom. His big head is putting my foot to sleep.”

Jaskier woke when he was moved but was easily tempted back to sleep with a kiss and a promise that he could hear all the details of the hunt in the morning, and thus Geralt ended up bracketed by two warm bodies. They stayed pressed in against him, not a breath between them despite the size of the bed, and shared lazy kisses that went nowhere but sleep. 

The three of them had been living together for a month, happily enough, but he'd always worried that they were just putting up with each other for him. This night, when their hands fell to occupy the same spot over his slow-beating heart, neither pulled away, and the fingers stayed there, interlaced, as sleep took them all.

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many feelings about this ship. I love them as a triad, I love them as a V. This is the first in a series of one shots/short arcs about the three of them sharing a life, in which Jaskier and Yennefer are [metamours](https://medium.com/@PolyamorySchool/free-chapter-metamours-2ddb7ad6a8e0) who care a lot about each other without actually dating.


End file.
